by Naomi Finley
With this in mind, I want to share my personal journey into the story’s development. Like Willow, the relationship I had with my father was not great. I resonate strongly with this character because I was raised to believe a woman’s role was to obey and keep silent. Throughout my life, I longed to be accepted by my father for being a strong woman. When I was younger I refused to be silenced about the wrongs I’d witnessed, and as a result I spent most of my life searching for his approval. When he died suddenly six years ago, I felt robbed of reaching a place of peace in our relationship. This grieved me because I loved my father. Sadly, a healthy relationship with him was never part of life’s plan.
About twelve years ago, an ex-military man named Jimmy walked into our lives and became a friend of my family. He had a shy disposition, with a unique and endearing laugh we adored. Jimmy chose to spend time with a few connections from his military days, as his family members were not part of his life. He refused to let others get close to him because of past hurts, so at first he denied the bond my family tried to form with him. Eventually, we won his trust and he became an important part of our lives.
Over time Jimmy became very special to our family and we cherished him. He would often show up at our place on Sunday mornings around 7a.m. offering a coffee and a smile. He had a beautiful spirit and viewed the world with an open mind. This man taught me to strive to be a better person. One of the many endearing things about Jimmy was he could never say my name correctly. He called me “Yomi,” and this was the inspiration for the character Jimmy referring to Willow as “Miss Willie.”
In 2012, Jimmy was diagnosed with prostate cancer. We hoped he would recover after surgery, but instead we found out the disease was in his liver. Our friend underwent another operation, but sadly the cancer moved to his lungs. At this point, things were looking grave, but he refused to give us permission to contact his family to inform them about his illness.
Jimmy also resisted a care nurse coming into his home because of his fear of doctors and his ornery disposition. As time went on, he depended on my husband and I to drive him to his appointments and run other errands. It still makes me chuckle when I think about him instructing the medical supply delivery service to throw his colostomy bags over the fence instead of bringing them to the door. He reminded me of Max Goldman from the film Grumpy Old Men.
Jimmy and I spent endless hours chatting during the three years we cared for him before he passed on June 15, 2015. He sometimes spoke about his daughter and he kept a small image of her hanging on his living room wall taken when she was one. Jimmy was estranged from his wife and had not seen his daughter since she was six. All too quickly the day came when he wanted to chat about his will. At first I didn’t want to talk about it—the thought of losing the man I’d come to love like a father was too heartbreaking. I comforted myself with the hope his health might improve.
My optimism was dashed when Jimmy made the choice to stop his chemo and radiation treatments in December 2014. At his request, I went over his will and I learned his daughter was the first person named on the document. The details of her whereabouts were scant, consisting of her first name and last known location only. He knew her mother’s first name, but he couldn’t remember her maiden name. Jimmy insisted he didn’t want to see his daughter. I suspect the fear of her rejection crippled him. All my husband and I could do was respect his final wishes, ensuring his daughter was notified and received the money he was leaving her after he passed.
By the time we decided to take action to find this girl, Jimmy’s cancer had moved to his brain. Both the illness and drugs were now affecting his mind. I knew if we were going to honor his will, I had to pick his memory for anything he might still recall to help our quest. Unfortunately, he blocked most of the details about his past as a coping mechanism. Thirty years had gone by since he had contact with anyone who might offer some direction, nonetheless, I was determined to find her.
The urgency to locate this woman kept me awake at night. I searched social media sites to obituaries and high school class lists to marriage records, but I came up empty-handed. I even spoke to a private investigator who insisted it was impossible to locate Jimmy’s daughter or her mother with so few facts. I was devastated, and felt overcome with grief and sadness. All I wanted to do was to give our dear friend the gift of peace knowing we tracked down his daughter before he passed. Despite the complicated nature of the circumstances, I refused to lay down and accept defeat.
Thankfully my search was revived in May when we were sitting in Jimmy’s living room and he suddenly remembered his wife’s maiden name. Armed with this piece of information, I went on the search again, and in June I tracked down his daughter’s uncle on Facebook. Searching through his list of friends I found Jimmy’s wife. As I scrolled through her list of friends, a familiar face popped up. Chills ran through me. The woman’s similarities to Jimmy were uncanny. I stared at the screen blinded by tears and full of confidence I finally found his daughter.
The next morning I drove to Jimmy’s house to deliver the news. He was beyond thrilled. I showed him her picture, and he marveled about “what a looker she was.” Each day he would ask me to see her photo.
Though it pained me, I respected his wishes and only contacted his daughter after he passed. She flew to my hometown. When I saw her, I knew with complete certainty she was Jimmy’s daughter. She was the portrait of Jimmy and their similarities were eerie. Upon inviting her into my house she instinctively sat in his chair at our supper table. During this visit I also took her to his home and shared our memories of her father, recounting what an important man he was to us. Jimmy had profoundly impacted my life: he healed my soul and filled a void of the father I always longed for.
I wish I could write a happier ending to Jimmy’s relationship story with his daughter the way I could for my fictional characters Jimmy and Ruby. Instead, all I can do is focus on how blessed my family was to have this amazing man in our lives. In the end we needed him, just as much as he needed us, and we will cherish each moment we spent with him.
As you can see from these personal connections, I love to build my stories around real life experiences and emotions. My hope in sharing this information is to give you a glimpse of the richness behind my characters reflecting pieces of my own life story.
Sincerely,
Naomi
A Guardian of Slaves may never have come into fruition this past year without a team of supportive people behind me. First, I want to offer a special thank you to my editors: Marg Gilks, Jena Parsons, and Jennifer Dinsmore. Marg, your insight and appreciation of my work encouraged me to continue doing what I love. Your mentoring and guidance through each manuscript motivated a desire in me to make you proud. Victoria Cooper, you shine as both a gifted designer and a person. I am continually captivated by how you take my ideas and transform them into beautiful works of art. From the time you first read my novel you believed in my abilities as a writer, and our chats bloomed beyond conversations about artwork to upcoming books. You truly are a gem. To my husband, whose faith in me makes all of this possible—thank you for every walk, vacation, and drive you spent discussing plot lines to exhaustion with me. You are my sustaining rock and quiver. To my children (my heart), family, and friends, I sincerely appreciate your forgiveness and understanding when I disappeared for days on end to hide out and write. And last, to my incredible readers for sending an outpouring of treasured feedback through your emails. Your kindness and support are the force behind what I do each day. Thank you for waiting for me to complete A Guardian of Slaves. I hope you enjoy it!
Naomi is a bestselling and award-winning author living in Northern Alberta. She loves to travel and her suitcase is always on standby awaiting her next adventure. Naomi’s affinity for the Deep South and its history was cultivated during her childhood living in a Tennessee plantation house with six sisters. Her fascination with history and the resiliency of the human spirit to overcome obstacles are major inspirations for her w
riting and she is passionately devoted to creativity. In addition to writing fiction, her interests include interior design, cooking new recipes, and hosting dinner parties. Naomi is married to her high school sweetheart and she has two teenage children and two dogs named Ginger and Snaps.
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